


Eighty-Eight Ways To Tell You

by BlueRoboKitty



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst, Blood and Gore, Close dismemberment and body horror, Galra!Keith, Kidnapping, M/M, another lance to the rescue fic, yeah it's um it's a little graphic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-11
Updated: 2016-07-11
Packaged: 2018-07-23 01:16:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7460898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueRoboKitty/pseuds/BlueRoboKitty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Keith is taken by the Galra, Lance volunteers to rescue him. It would be an amazing bonding moment if there weren't so many <i>teeth</i> involved.</p><p>For not-snuff Anon: "anything klance plus kidnapping or torturing thing before they realize their feelings for each other."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Eighty-Eight Ways To Tell You

**Author's Note:**

> This might not be exactly as requested, but I really liked what came out of this request, and I hope you do too! :D [Song I listened to while writing](https://youtu.be/9eqyir5JGpA).

“Hey. Do you remember?”

 

 

* * *

 

 

They don’t take him to the gladiator pit as Lance has convinced himself they would because that's what these assholes do, right? It’s been very difficult to focus since he’s bait himself here and got captured, all according to plan of course, at least up until that point. He can’t possibly think of a way out of this situation at the moment. A sort of sickeningly sweet scent constantly burns through his nose, making his head feel heavy as if his very thoughts weigh down on his shoulders. He hurts all over, and just moving a finger takes all his strength and shoots stabbing needles right into his brain. He can’t remember anything. What have they done to him? Why won’t his head stop throbbing?

They throw him into a room, just toss him like last night’s garbage and slam the heavy metal door. The smell is even thicker here, and now he can actually taste it on his tongue as if the very air is forcing itself into his mouth, so disgustingly sweet and metallic, pennies dipped in corn syrup. His stomach churns and breathing hurts his teeth. That same sugary air sticks to him, sliding over his skin under the flimsy cloth he wears like he’s swimming in jello.

He lies face down in sticky dirt that smells earthy and organic, little more than a stuffy stall of some animal. The stench would fill him with nostalgia because there are _a lot_ of cows in California if it’s not for that sweetness slowly suffocating him. It’s dark in here, red lighting casting shadows over the walls like ominous candlelight.

No, not shadows. Those are _stains._ Massive black stains that shine with a foreboding purple and drip down the stony walls in thick globs of goop. There are _pieces_ sticking to those stains as if glued there. Except for one particularly large, slimy gray piece that slides down to the floor and hits the dirt with a fleshy _plop,_ and then Lance’s throat clogs again, sour bile mixing with that sweet fragrance. Sweat pours down his face from the stagnant heat. Cuban summers don’t compare to this room; at least they don’t smell like a slaughterhouse.

There is a corner of this room that looks especially dark, and as Lance struggles to focus, he realizes that it looks less like a shadow and more like the form of an actual person… or creature. Icy chills race down his spine – he’s being watched. Closely. Hungrily.

Lance instinctively reaches for his bayard only to discover that it’s not there. He struggles to hold back his hysterical laughter because – _duh!_ – of course, they’ve taken his weapon, even his Paladin armor, and if he makes a sound, he’s going to lose his mind. Because he knows the reality of the situation deep down on a primal level, tapping into the days when mankind’s ancestors operated on little more than survival instinct programmed into his genes.

He’s not an opponent.

He’s _lunch._

 

 

* * *

 

 

“Fuck yeah, I’m a fighter pilot now!”

Lance never thought he would actually see his name on the list of the new students that had made the fighter pilot program. He could barely bring himself to look at the thing, and had to beg Hunk to look up his name for him. He braced himself for utter disappointment just like last semester when Hunk said, “Dude, you should see this.”

And there it was. Lance Moreno Reyes, class 2-B, fighter pilot. He wasn’t even at the bottom of the list, just a little above the middle. His intense desire to surpass that Korean jerk who had been at the top of their entire class for the past year now had finally paid off.

“Whatever did happen to Keith, anyway?” Hunk wondered out loud. “It’s like he just vanished.” Always a big-hearted softie, that one, who found Lance’s rivalry to be pointless. Then again, Hunk was enlisted and therefore would never understand the intense competitive nature of the officer path.

“Who cares?” Lance retorted with a smug shrug. “He’s gone, and I have his spot. Good riddance, I say. Fuck him.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

The shadowy figure launches out of the corner, and Lance barely rolls out of the way as it slams into the wall next to him with a snarl. He scrambles to his feet as the creature falls back and shakes its head, and then Lance all but crumbles back to the floor when it turns its face to hungrily glare at him.

Those eyes blaze in that golden Galra color, and Lance notices the faintest line of a slit pupil behind each glow. Feline ears lie flat against the head, and the face is split into a monstrous toothy grin.

“Keith?”

This isn’t Keith. _Can’t_ be Keith. Just a Galra beast that happens to look _exactly_ like his teammate if you add the yellow eyes and teeth and claws and huge cat-like ears and patches of purple-gray fur. Keith makes a sound that’s like a half growl, half giggle as he stalks toward Lance on all fours, crouching low on the ground like he’s going to pounce again, those gold eyes wide and crazed. Spittle drips from the corners of his stretched mouth.

“Fuck, Keith, what the fuck… what did they _do_ to you?”

Why does he look like a Galra? Surely this is something the Druids have done, a hallucination, a trap, something fucking with his mind to make him hurt his friend. Trick them both into fighting each other. Or they’re just using a Galra that looks like Keith to torture Lance before the thing kills him outright.

_No._

Lance knows. He’s been in Keith’s mind enough times to know on an instinctive level what Keith’s presence feels like. In fact, he’s known this presence long before they formed Voltron together.

Lance notices that there is something metal and alien gleaming from the back of Keith’s neck, and then he feels the wind knock out of him as Keith slams him to the ground and pins him there and claws like daggers start to dig into his soft skin.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“Oh, you were an engineer or something, weren’t you?”

No, he wasn’t a goddamn engineer. Or something. _Or something!_ He wanted nothing more than to punch that stupid looking face, have those indigo eyes give him something other than a blank, unfamiliar stare. “Seriously?” Lance’s voice cracked a little under the weight of his fury. He even started to shake, his hand wrapped around Shiro’s lifeless wrist in a death grip, ignoring the cool metal biting into his palm. “We were in the same class! Rivals, y’know?”

Keith blinked at him, none of the lights flicking on upstairs.

Lance flushed slightly, heart beating a little faster. “Do you remember? At all? The mu – “

He cut off. He couldn’t say that. There was no need to go there.

“Oh, wait, I do! Yeah! You’re that _cargo pilot!”_

Lance bared his teeth so hard, his gums started to ache, and then his lips curled into a nasty sneer. “And now I’m fighter class because your dumb ass washed out. Clearly you couldn’t handle the competition anymore.”

Keith’s eyes flashed at him with rage… and _hurt?_

“Congratulations,” he growled back, ending the conversation entirely.

 

 

* * *

 

 

_FUCK, that HURTS! It HURTS!_

Lance screams as Keith’s claws rip into his skin, tearing him shreds. A thick coppery odor joins with the sweet stench as hot blood bubbles to the surface of Lance’s body and flows from the ripped flesh. “Keith, _KEITH STOP!”_ Lance can barely form words from the blinding white hot pain of his suddenly very soft and vulnerable body being torn apart. Keith shrieks with bestial glee, hands and forearms soaked with Lance’s blood.

Noises fill Lance’s brain, squishy and visceral, and the knowledge that if he doesn’t do something soon, Keith is going to completely disembowel him for the fucking fun of it. His arm flies up in a desperate swing and slams into Keith’s nose.

Keith shrieks and stumbles back, shaking the blood pouring from his broken face. Lance pushes himself up to a sitting position, and throws up his arms when Keith pounces on him again. Teeth sink into his forearm, sharp canines cutting through tissue and muscle like hot butter. “Keith!” Lance shrieks through this pain that he wishes would just fucking end him already, and with each desperate word more blood pushes out of his wounds. “Keith, please! _Please, buddy!_ It’s _me,_ IT’S LANCE! Don’t you remember!? _Don’t you remember me at all!?”_

 

 

* * *

 

 

“Holy shit, the Galra – the Galra took him! They took Keith!”

Hunk was on the verge of tears for he had seen the whole thing. Red floating next to the ship with dark eyes, Keith not answering his communicator no matter how much they all screamed at him for a response. The Yellow Paladin tried, had tried so hard to get to Keith’s side but the Galra had gotten to him first. “I wasn’t fast enough,” he moaned into his hands. “I wasn’t fast enough, and they took him!”

“We’ll get him back,” Shiro assured him with a determined frown even though they had no idea where Keith had been taken. The Galra battleship had jumped through a wormhole of its own after snatching Keith away. Almost as if the other Lions didn’t matter, anymore, not even Shiro. Something had made the enemy change their priorities.

“I’ll go,” Lance volunteered without stopping to consider the consequences of that decision. “Why settle for one Lion when they can have two? I’m sure they’ll take me to where he is. Put a tracer on me, and the rest of you can jump to my coordinates.”

The others stared at him as if they weren’t used to Lance thinking so strategically. Which was kind of insulting, really. Lance had always been good at thinking on his feet, assessing a situation and adjusting accordingly.

“And what if they don’t?” Hunk snapped. “What if they just kill you instead? Oh my God, Lance, losing Keith is bad enough, but if I lose you…” He trailed off to bury his head in his hands, and Pidge reached over to gently rub his shoulders.

Lance knelt down in front of the bigger guy and pulled his beefy hands away from his tear-streaked face, wearing a kind smile. “I’ll be fine.” His smile grew into a cheeky grin. “I’m too awesome, remember? I’ll bring him back, promise.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

“Hey. Do you remember?”

Keith stops moving, mouth still buried in the pulpy red mess where half of Lance’s arm used to be, and Lance stares directly into those golden eyes. Keith is in there somewhere. Call it cliché, but there is a truth to such things, and there is no mistaking that presence. Black pulses at the edge of his vision, but Lance won’t give up, not right now.

“The music room at the Garrison. You were watchin’ me. You remember that, don’t you? Where we first met. Well, made eye contact, anyway. Remember?”

 

 

* * *

 

 

“I cradled you in my arms, Lance! We had a bonding moment, how can you not remember that!?”

Lance scowled at Keith and shook his head. “Nope, I don’t remember that at all. You’re just makin’ shit up now. Tryin’ to get on my good side because I’m a hero.”

Lance watched as his words formed a dagger to stab right into Keith’s gut. The hurt in those eyes almost made him apologize immediately and admit to himself that he was just being a petty child right now because of Keith’s own cluelessness.

Of course, he remembered. And of course, he did neither of those things.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Lance begins to hum. His voice doesn’t capture the beauty of the song he played in the music room so long ago, but he hopes it comes close enough. Those large ears where Keith’s human ones used to be turn and flick several times, and Lance continues to hum, hoping that those ears are giving him a sign of familiarity.

Those eyes grow wide. Keith’s oral grip on Lance’s arm begins to relax and then lets go completely. Blood drips from his quivering lips as a tear swells in the corner of one eye and rolls down his cheek.

“L… L… an.. ce?”

“Yeah, yeah, it’s me… I’m sorry… I can’t rescue you, properly…”

_I’m so sorry about this. I know it’s not you, so please don’t take this personally._

Lance seizes Keith and throws him down on the ground before climbing onto his back. Keith shrieks with animalistic rage, but Lance doesn’t give him room to move as he pins the Red Paladin to the floor with his knee rooted to his spine. He wraps his hand attached to the still good arm around the strange mechanism in the back of Keith’s neck, the thing no doubt responsible for turning him into _this,_ and he _pulls_ and _tugs_ with a renewed strength born of desperation.

Keith screams, a sound that doesn’t naturally belong to either human or animal, and claws at the dirt, trying to get away but it only makes Lance that much more determined to keep him in place. He doesn’t allow his own sentimentality offer any relief for a second because the moment he lets go is the moment they both die. Amidst Keith’s screams of agony is the tearing sound of ripping flesh, and then Lance gives one final, vicious _yank_ and the mechanism pops out in a shower of blood and sinew.

Lance is unconscious before he hits the ground.

 

 

* * *

 

 

The moon of Tathrus was the most stunning place Lance had ever seen, a silvery satellite made of bright crystals and a soft carpet like white grass beneath his feet. The atmosphere was breathable, so his helmet rested in the crook of his arm as he enjoyed the cool breeze brushing against his damp face. Colors of space splashed across the night sky among a million diamond stars, their light casting beautiful patches of green and red within the canopy of deepest blue and the darkest purple. Tathrus slowly turned high above them, a planet of bright red with golden swirls, so close Lance felt that he could reach out and touch it.

“It’s cold,” Keith remarked from next to him.

“We’ve chased the Galra off the moon, and you’re complainin’?” Lance shot back.

“I was going to add before I was so rudely interrupted by the Peanut Gallery that it feels really good,” Keith said with exasperation. "It gets really hot in our Lions, you know."

"Yeah. Really hot." Lance glanced at him, and that was probably a mistake because he noticed that Keith’s eyes were the very color of that indigo sky, the color of deep space. His heart pounded a little faster as his gaze drifted down to the pair of supple lips, the lightest of pink, and Keith was so close Lance could feel his breath brushing against his cheek, hot compared to the cold night.

“Um, ah, y’know, we did really well together back there,” Lance muttered.

Keith stared at him for a second, then nodded. “Y-yeah. Yeah, we did. N-not bad.”

It had to be because Lance was still coming down from the high of battle, for once so perfectly in sync with Keith it was like they had been sharing the same brain. He still felt kind of connected, bonded, and Keith was staring at him from beneath his long lashes, his face slightly flushed.

“I have to ask you something.” Lance had to ask before this – whatever was happening – was taken a step further.

“Hm?” Keith gazed up at him as Lance stepped forward, looking both inquisitive and impatient.

“Do you remember? At all?”

“Remember what?” Keith leaned closer, tilting up on his toes, and his soft voice was a clear indication that he wasn’t interested in talking whatsoever, and Lance no longer had it in him to delay this moment any longer as he felt his eyes start to close and his tongue flick over his bottom lip.

 _“Hey, are you guys alright?”_ Pidge’s voice broke in over their communicators, and Keith whipped around so fast, he nearly smacked Lance in the face with his helmet as he plopped it over his head.

“Y-yeah, we’re… we’re here!”

Keith sounded absolutely breathless and it made Lance’s heart race all the faster.

 _“Wow, you don’t sound all that okay,”_ Hunk added, his voice laced with teasing.

“We’re just a little _distracted_ right now, that’s all,” Lance said as he put on his own helmet and shot a wink at Keith’s murderous, blushing glare.

 

 

* * *

 

 

The cryogenic pod serves several uses, and when in curative mode, it doesn’t freeze at all but is actually very warm and comfortable as it repairs damaged tissue and replaces nutrients. It even manages, through some kind of microscopic cloning process, to replace the blood Lance has lost. Lance wakes up as the lid rises, feeling refreshed and rejuvenated even if a little fatigued. Even his arm, which has almost been chewed clean off, is whole again.

Hunk and Pidge are on him immediately. “I – I’m getting really sick of seeing you in that pod, Lance!” Pidge exclaims, blushing underneath their glasses, tiny body shaking as they struggle to hold in their emotions. “Stop doing stupid things that nearly get you killed!”

Hunk says nothing. He just holds Lance very, very tightly, his broad shoulders trembling. Lance leans into the big guy, trying not to cry himself, letting his warmth seep into him. He’s alive. _Alive._

“We’ll have to figure out how to get the Blue and Red Lions back,” Shiro says gently. “But for now, you two need to focus on getting better.” He strokes the top of Lance’s head, and his black eyes take on a look that is deeper than gratitude. “You brought him back to us. Good work, Lance.”

Lance notices the other occupied cyropod, and he ducks out of Hunk’s embrace to scramble over to it, ignoring how the world tilts and goes out of focus for a dizzying second. “Careful, Lance!” Allura exclaims. “You’re still not fully recovered!”

Lance ignores her as he stares up into Keith’s unconscious body. He looks almost peaceful like this, but judging by the red lettering on what looked to be some of his vitals, he’s still in pretty bad shape. At least, he looks human again.

“His physiology is clearly different from that of a human’s,” Coran cuts in as if reading Lance’s thoughts. “Pulling that Galra tech out of his spinal column would have killed him otherwise.”

The others stare at Lance, shocked that it’s almost come down to Lance killing Keith, but he ignores them. He did what he had to, and he’ll never apologize for it. Keith would want it that way.

“We can talk about that later, Coran,” Allura says gently. “Come, let’s get Lance something to eat so he can get his strength back.”

As the group leaves the infirmary, Lance catches up with Hunk. “Hey, um, can I ask you a favor?” he says, almost shyly. “I need you to make something for me…”

Hunk smiles and pats his shoulder. “Already ahead of you, bro. I’ve been working on it during my free time ever since we found out we were gonna be stuck here a while. I know how you get. Should be done by dinner.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Lance’s fingers danced over the piano keys as he practiced for the test coming up in his music elective. Even though he had focused on pilot training for the past few years, and he was now determined to get into the fighter class no matter what, he never could give up on music. The piano ebbed and flowed with each note like an ocean wave during a summer sunset as eighty-eight emotions poured into the air.

He hadn’t made it this time. They’d classed him as cargo instead based on his simulator results. He just wasn’t good enough for the fighter class, didn’t have what it took. Not that there was anything wrong with flying cargo, but he had always dreamt of being fighter.

He heart ached as the music resonated with every feeling that raced through him. This was how he always relieved his stress, kept himself grounded when the world wasn’t going right. The ocean wasn’t there to calm him, not physically, not in this literal desert, but it swirled around him within the notes. He would ace this music test, at least. That accounted for something.

Lance glanced over when he felt the presence of someone else in the room. He didn’t stop, but he did notice someone leaning against the doorway. It was that guy from his homeroom, the one with the pretty face and the weird mullet. Song, right? Keith was his first name, wasn’t it? He stood there with his eyes closed and the slightest of smiles on his lips.

For a long moment, Lance continued to play and that guy continued to stand there listening. It was a strange connection between them then, almost intimate, but Lance couldn’t say that he didn’t like the feeling. As he let the notes drift away when the song ended, he gave his audience a playful smirk. “Like what you hear?”

The guy named Keith Song only gave him a blank stare, and Lance noticed his eyes were a deep and dark blue like space itself. They stared at each other for a long time, and Lance wasn’t sure if it was his imagination or something, but it felt like there was a connection there after all, like the soul recognizing something familiar. And then Keith pushed off the doorway, walking away without acknowledging Lance’s existence any further.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Lance returns to the infirmary after dinner with his prize in hand. Keith’s vitals are looking a little better. The healing process is making progress if a bit slow. He sits in front of the pod and makes himself comfortable, propping the thing Hunk has made for him steady on its short stand across his lap.

There are few buttons, but Hunk has managed to include all eighty-eight keys and that’s more than Lance can ask for. He flicks on the switch and music fills the infirmary as Lance starts to play a familiar tune and an ocean of feeling swells in the air as he says everything he has ever wanted to say to Keith that words could never truly convey.

Behind him, the numbers monitoring Keith’s pulse spike a little, as if his heart has skipped a beat, then return to normal.


End file.
